The Primrose Path
by Mnemosyne's-Muse
Summary: Lucian is back and in action, well kind of. He's hurt, he's in pain, and he's being watched over by a tiny slip of a girl that couldn't stop a human man, let alone a vampire attack. But he's trusting her, why he'll never understand. Lucian/OC
1. Frailty, thy name is Woman!

**Frailty, thy name is Woman!**

_In the amount of time that has passed since the "death" of Lucian, the Lycan King, the vampires have dropped their guard. But what if Lucian had been saved? Long before the vampires even began to be relaxed, long before the Lycan ambassadors reached the new Ancients. A girl, a gift, a love, and a war to win are now the focus of every immortal alive._

_Note:_ Obviously I don't own any of the characters from the original Underworld, nor do I ever want to claim to have them as my own. But Ophelia and the characters that aren't from the film are mine. I'm a new writer here on , and would love it if people would review my story!

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Ophelia stared down at her watch and sighed. It seemed like her young captive had gone into the club after all. Ophelia didn't know the girl as well as she thought, but the girl just lived in her apartment building, not in her apartment. Pushing herself off of the wall she looked back at the club and sighed. It didn't seem like she was going to play the guardian angel tonight. And who was she kidding really? Veer didn't want someone to watch over her. Yeah, Ophelia had babysat the kid when she was little, but now it seemed like she had distanced herself from the world. So it was time to let go of childhood memories and give up. Sure the kid's family might be a little mad, but Ophelia was twenty now! She didn't exactly want to hang out with a bunch of teenagers.

Casting one last look down the tunnel Veer had disappeared into, she started when she heard what sounded like a moan coming from down the tunnel. Her eyebrows snapped down and a frown planted itself on her face. Maybe she hadn't been wrong. Veer could have gotten hurt down there! She started to walk down the tunnel, but as she turned the corner a body launched into hers. Gasping, she wrapped her arms around what she soon found to be a man. He was shaking as if he'd just been in an earthquake, and she shushed him as she wildly looked around for what could have scared him this much. Cities weren't the safest places in the world, something she had learned just a while ago when some man tried to pick pocket her. Leaning herself against the wall, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her own thundering heart. "Ex-excuse me? Um, who-who are you?"

But the man didn't reply to her, instead he seemed to pass out in her arms. She grunted as his whole weight crushed her into the wall. Desperately trying to breathe, she ran her hands down his spine and frantically smacked his sides. "Please, I can't breathe! You have to take some of your own weight here!"

The pounding on his sides seemed to wake him, and he slowly pushed himself up on one trembling arm. It was then that Ophelia noticed that he was covered in blood. Huffing out a breath in shock, she gently leaned him against the wall and kept her hands under his arms until he was sitting on a block of cement. She knelt in front of him to speak, hoping to snap the man out of whatever stupor he was in. "Sir?" His eyes weren't even on her as he seemed to stare off into the distance. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Sir you have to listen to me. Are you alright?"

He didn't reply, but Ophelia was certain that at least some of the blood was his. But what was puzzling her was that a lot of the blood wasn't red, some of it was silver and oozing down his arms and legs in clumps. She gently touched one of the clumps, careful to watch his reaction. All she could think that he was going to jump at her and scream or something similarly scary. But the man didn't move at all, instead stared off into the distance as if searching for something. Staring at the silver ooze on her finger she realized that was exactly what it was. Liquid silver. She could have sworn that the only way to make silver liquid was to heat it, but this silver was liquid at room temperature. Furrowing her brows in concentration, she stared harder at the liquid coating her fingers. It couldn't be anything else, and no man bled silver. Shaking her head she tried to get her mind out of the clouds, the man was in pain in front of her and she was still thinking about why there was silver on him!

Cupping water from the pools around them she gently poured it down one of his legs. Grimacing when she saw the cuts that looked as though they covered his entire body, she gently ran her hands down his calf to clean it of the dirt. It probably wasn't the best thing to be cleaning his wounds with, but it had to be doing something. She looked back up at him to see his startled face staring down at her. He wasn't the greatest looking man in the world, despite his being covered in blood she could see a high arching widow's peak and unremarkable features that were really bordering on not handsome at all. His clothing was ripped to shreds and hung on his figure as though they were unclean. Ophelia could see through the rips and was surprised to find that he wasn't completely skin and bones. The man was well defined in musculature, and seemed to be in a good health. Other then the fact that he looked like he had been attacked by an animal and had lost a surprising amount of blood, Ophelia was shocked to see that he didn't look like some bum that had lived down here for years. "Look if I'm going to get you out of here, you can't walk around the streets covered in blood. It looks like you should be dead, let alone walking into me with enough power to knock me off my feet."

When he didn't move at all she stared up towards the heavens, hadn't she just decided she wasn't going to be a guardian angel? But here was this wounded man in front of her, and it wasn't like she was able to just leave him here. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she stood up and dusted off her pants. She shrugged off her oversized jacket and held it out to him. "Here, at least you can cover yourself up a bit."

But when he tried to move he almost fell over. Ophelia didn't want to get close to him again, but what else could she do? So she fit herself under his arm and supported what weight she could. She couldn't help but notice that she fit under his arm like she was made to do so, but this wasn't the time for such romantic thoughts. Trying to ignore the nagging feeling that Veer was getting into trouble, she started the slow and painful (for him at least) walk down the tunnel. It was far too long for him and by the end she was carrying most of his weight. Eventually they made it to the end of the tunnel where she propped him against the wall and shoved the door open. Of course the monolithic guard wasn't there anymore, so she had to drag the man out to the bus stop nearby, where she sat him down.

He didn't look so good. His cheeks were the color of ash, and he was violently shaking. This worried Ophelia to no end, and she crouched in front of him with her hands on his knees saying, "Look, I think I should bring you to a hospital. Really, it's not good for you to be like this. I think you could be dying. I'm not a doctor but you really don't look so good."

He shook his head at her words, but the movement seemed to do more harm than good when he immediately rested his head against the back of the bench. She tried to hail a cab while sitting, but Ophelia quickly realized that she would be unsuccessful. Cab drivers seemed to hate her, and she could never get them to stop for her. The thought of flashing them crossed her mind, but that would do no one good at this point. She glanced at the man with a thoughtful look on her face. Really it wouldn't be a good thing to have a stranger in her apartment, but she had a lock on her bedroom door. Making her decision quickly, she hefted him up and said, "Come on, my apartment's not too far from here. All we have to do is walk five blocks. We can do it."

She wasn't sure they could do it, but they would have to.

They finally reached her apartment, but the man she carried looked far worse than he had sitting on the bench. She had a moment of hysteria when they got into the elevator though. It was a morbid parody of her bringing a boyfriend home. Her elderly neighbor always said that she'd come home with a boy that had his arm around her and she'd see them get out of the elevator and wink at Ophelia. Well here she was with a boy wrapped around her in the elevator, but it wasn't a good thing at this point.

The ding of the elevator pushed her through the hallway, and she was shocked to realize that no one opened their door to see who was coming down the hallway. It seemed like fate was on her side for the moment. There was a bit of a struggle as she tried to reach her purse, which was under the arm she was holding him with. But they eventually got into her apartment where she headed for the bathroom.

She kicked the toilet lid down and sat him on it. Leaning down, she smiled at him. "See? We did it." It didn't matter that she was extremely out of breath. All that mattered was that she and he made it safely to her apartment.

The man was hurt, and hurt bad. Ophelia had detected this from the first moment she laid eyes on him. But now that he was sitting on her toilet waiting for her to heal him, she couldn't remember anything that she'd learned from her brother when he was in boy scouts. All she could think was to get the wounds clean, disinfectant, Neosporin, and then wrap it up with whatever she had. But for some reason all she could think was that she didn't know what she was doing. What if she ended up hurting him more and infecting his cuts? What if she was really healing someone that the Higher Powers wanted dead? Not that Ophelia was the kind of girl that believed in fate, but she had spent a while practicing Wicca and still believed that some things were probably meant to be. The last thing she wanted was some avenging God in her living room.

She turned to the medicine cabinet and stared at the contents. There was no way that she had anything that would help him. She had a few wraps, rubbing alcohol, and Neosporin but she wasn't positive whether or not she would be able to do anything with those. He was a big guy, maybe it wouldn't do anything and she'd just hurt him more then he already was. But she piled all those things next to her on the counter and then scooped them up in her arms. Ophelia tried to ignore the man next to her, but that was easier said then done. He watched her every movement as though he completely trusted her. She wasn't sure whether or not she liked that. Someone that immediately trusted a person that they had just met was asking for trouble. The thought made her pause in her sorting and she had to fight not to smirk. Hypocritical much, she asked herself. Here she was with a strange man in her apartment that she wasn't even watching!

Turning to the man, she smiled and placed everything next to him on the counter. Here came the hard part, and she wasn't quite sure how to go about it. But Ophelia had never been the kind of girl to not be direct about things, so she stood in front of him and quietly asked, "Can you lift your arms over your head?" Slowly he lifted his arms as she asked, and she reached behind him to grab the back of his shirt. Ophelia was desperately trying to ignore the heat coming off of his body and the feeling of his breath at her collarbone. She was very nearly intoxicated with it all before she realized that his shirt wasn't moving anymore, and that it wasn't because she had stopped pulling at it. Grimacing, she quietly murmured, "This is going to hurt. Your shirt has stuck to your skin from the blood. I'm going to just rip it and get it over with, like a band aid yes?" She noticed that his jaw was set, and she took this to mean that he understood her. "Okay, 1… 2…" And then she ripped the shirt upward.

It was cruel to do that to him. But when she was a kid that was always how the band aids came off, and it stopped the waiting. Ophelia felt horrible though. She felt his chest press against hers as his back arched in pain, and she heard the groan that eventually came out of his mouth. She whispered, "I'm so sorry," and then continued to pull his shirt over his head and up his arms. Her eyes avoided his in an almost desperate way, but she had to meet his eyes at some point. With a small smile, she pulled his left arm towards her. Wetting a cloth, she gently washed his arm. She dabbed at the cuts, smoothed over the unharmed areas, and then used the disinfectant on the cuts. That he stayed completely still made her surprised, but he seemed like the kind of man that could stand pain.

When she reached his back, she sucked in a breath. It looked as though his back had bullet holes in it. Now Ophelia had never seen bullet holes in a person, but she had seen movies. The gaping hole through his back looked very much like those in the movies, and she couldn't help but feel slightly faint. This was the reason why she leaned against his shoulder as she cleaned the wounds, at least that was what she told herself. In truth, she couldn't help but be drawn towards this surprising visitor. The way he smelled was enough to drive her wild, a strange mix of wilderness and man, the scent of a Wildman, not a city boy. His shoulder under her hand was as hard as granite and the muscles rippled as she tended to his back. He was a man that could deal with pain, the more she worked on him the more that he stayed stoic. Sighing she leaned back and let out the breath she had been holding.

Ophelia was rather proud of her work. And when she stood back to look at him she couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "You look like a mummy."

But the man didn't even seem to hear her, instead he was simply staring at her mirror, though she doubted he was staring at his own reflection. She backed towards the door and motioned to his legs. "I'm sure you can do your own bottom half. I'm just going to find something for you to wear so you don't have to stay in those clothes."

She closed the door quietly, listening for a moment until she heard him moving around. Then she made her way over to the apartment across the hall, though she honestly didn't want to visit her neighbor. He was the oddest man, and seemed to think that he was God's gift to women. When she first moved to the apartment across the hall he would saunter over to visit her every day claiming that he was going to save her soul from the rest of the scoundrels around. The only other men that lived on her floor were either married or in their sixties. But Ophelia dealt with it, mostly because she couldn't stand hurting him. He was a nerdy guy, and she always had a soft spot for the nerds. But now he seemed just about the right size for clothing for her new bunkmate and she was certain that she could convince him to give her the clothing that she needed.

Ophelia knocked on the door and waited for the onslaught of hell to come. And it did in a very brisk manner. When the door opened Bert's face light up like a thousand candles and he screamed, "Oh my God! I knew you would come over here, get inside I swear we'll have a good night." And he even had the audacity to wink at her in a way that made her want to cringe.

"No thanks, Bert. I actually just need to borrow a pair of sweats."

Bert was short for Lambert, something his parents must have thought extremely funny at the time when they were naming him. Who knows why they named him that, but now they claimed it was after the player on the Steelers, even though the guy was probably just a kid when Bert was born. You see, Bert always claimed that he was going to be famous. Ophelia very highly doubted that, possibly because he rarely left his apartment. He was a very skinny man who constantly was hitting on women. His hair was usually slicked to his scalp with old fashioned grease and he seemed to be one of those men that could very likely be in some kind of cult. Ophelia wasn't one to judge though, so she usually left him alone in his apartment doing whatever it was that he did.

"Oh don't be like that baby!"

"I'm not kidding Bert, just give me the sweats."

He nodded at her tone and walked towards his room, and she was certain that he left the door open on purpose. She stared into his apartment and wrinkled her nose. It was dirty, worse then dirty actually. Clothes covered the floor, even the occasional bra or underwear that Ophelia knew didn't belong to a woman that that had come to his apartment. She didn't want to know what the magazines on the couch were, though she had a good feeling that they were Playboys. And his counter was covered with rotting pizzas that she could smell from the door. But when he came out of his bedroom with a pair of normal grey sweats in hand, she could have kissed him in gratitude. "Thank you so much Bert!"

She reached in and grabbed the sweats from him before he even made it to the door. She didn't want to talk with her neighbor anymore than necessary. But she paused when he called her name.

"Ophelia, why do you need a pair of my sweats? They aren't going to fit you."

She wanted nothing more then to groan. Bert wasn't an idiot, she should have known that he would have asked her why she needed his sweats. But she didn't have an alibi, so she turned and said in a falsely cheerful voice, "A friend of mine is staying over and he doesn't have a pair of his own."

At Bert's shocked look she knew that she had started something that she'd never live down, but before he could ask her anymore she had slipped into her apartment and shut the door. Banging her head against the wood of the door, she groaned. "Idiot, idiot, idiot," she whispered to herself. Looking into her living room she stopped dead when she saw the naked man standing directly in between her fading couch and the coffee table that her grandmother had sent her. Whirling on her heel, Ophelia tried to keep her gasp inside her mouth. But there was nothing she could do, she had a naked man in her apartment. Okay, so now what? This was definitely something new.

"Um, here are the sweats." She reached her arm out behind her, trying not to look at anything except the whirls of the wood on her door. When he took the sweatpants from her hand she let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Ophelia didn't know what to do with a naked man. Hell, it was her apartment! Where had he gotten the thought that when she had left she meant get naked? It was all she could do to stop the burning of her cheeks and it felt very much like a volcano had gone off in her head. Counting to fifty silently she waited to turn her head slightly to the side, trying to see him in her peripheral vision. "Can-can I turn around now?" When he didn't say anything she figured that he was saying yes. But it was a very slow turn, giving her enough reaction time to whip back around if he somehow hadn't understood that she meant for him to put the sweats on.

What a strange man. That was the only thing that she could think. He was a mystery to her. He didn't talk, she didn't know where he was from or what happened to him, and he was beaten to within an inch of his life. If she had been correct some of his wounds were bullet wounds, but there hadn't been any bullets in his body. She frowned at him as he stood swaying in the middle of her living room. "Come on, you can't just stand there." Reflexively she grabbed his arm and led him to the chair. It was the most comfortable piece of furniture in the apartment, and that included her bed. That chair used to be her father's before the upholstery started to tear. Her dad had given it to her because he knew how much she loved it. It was very odd to see a man sitting in her father's chair. But here was a man sitting on there looking for all the world like he was going to throw up.

With that in mind, Ophelia rushed to the closet to grab a bucket and placed it next to him, all thoughts of her momentary scare when she remembered that he was ill. She quickly turned on the tv and felt his forehead. "You don't have a fever, so you should be fine. Here, just watch tv for a while and try to get your mind off of whatever it is that you went through." As she made the couch into a bed for him, she couldn't help but listen to the news that was on. It was comforting to listen to the news. Ophelia had always liked to do so since she was very little. But when she heard that five kids were found underneath the city dead, she paused in her work. Taking a deep breath, she tucked the edge of the sheet underneath a cushion. He couldn't have killed those kids, could he have? She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the man sitting her father's chair, but he didn't look fazed at all. He just looked like he was going to pass out. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she quickly finished making the bed before walking over to him. She tried desperately to convince herself that he wasn't a killer, but somehow she was losing the battle.

As she plumped the pillow she pulled the covering off. It seemed very likely that either he was the killer or a victim that had gotten away. The fact that he was covered in blood really didn't bode well for her chance of survival of the night, but he didn't look like someone that had just killed five teenagers. She swayed as she thought about Veer. Oh the poor kid, what were her parents going through right now? It had been Ophelia's job to watch the girl, and now she just felt like she had been apart of the murder.

There was a knock on the door and Ophelia knew just who to expect. Setting the pillow onto the couch she walked over to the door and took a deep breath. Pulling it open she smiled at Veer's parents. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. James, what can I do for you?"

Mrs. James looked like she had been crying for quite some time. Her eyes were ringed with red and she was still clutching a tissue like it was her last lifeline onto the earth. "Dear, we know that you went out with Guinevere tonight. Is she with you?"

"No, I'm sorry Mrs. James. She gave me the slip only a few minutes after we got to the… where she was taking me." Mrs. James had no idea that her daughter Gwenie was actually apart of a group of teenagers that snuck into a club called the Underground every weekend. Veer had given her slip just before she reached the door under the city. It was a gross club, locked away in the caverns of the city sewers, but the teenagers had desperately wanted to go. Ophelia had only gone because she knew Veer was going, and she knew what type of people hung around the Underground. It had been an older sister move, but Veer had never wanted an older sister.

Mrs. James burst into tears at the realization that her daughter was missing and that there were five dead teenagers on the news. Ophelia awkwardly gave her a hug through the door, making certain that they couldn't see the shirtless man sitting in her father's chair. "I'm sorry Mrs. James. I would have tried to keep a better eye on her if I'd known that this could have happened. I'm sure she's not one of those teenagers, she's a smart girl."

But the truth was, Veer wasn't a smart girl. Ophelia had known Veer since she was a very small girl, and Veer had just gotten worse as she grew up. She got ignorant. Ophelia had lived in the city her entire life, but she knew that certain places in the city no sane person walked around at night. Veer was still in the teenage stage where nothing could harm her. And Ophelia was scared that that very attitude had gotten her into a lot of trouble.

She said good bye to the couple at her door and turned back to her now very mysterious visitor. All she could think was that maybe he was a killer. Could he have killed those kids? Could he have somehow harmed them and then gotten hurt himself? But it didn't seem likely to her. He was sitting in the chair shivering uncontrollably and looking for all he was worth like a man that couldn't kill a fly, much less a gang of five teenagers.

Taking his arm, she moved him to the couch and pulled back the covers. "Here you go. If you need anything my room is not far. Just yell or knock on the table loud enough for me to hear you." She backed away slowly and made to go towards her room. But at the last moment she paused and leaned against the door jam. "You… You didn't kill those kids did you?" When she didn't hear an answer she looked towards him on the couch. But he was staring at her in that way that made her insides squirm and as she watch he slowly shook his head. Relief flooded her body and she swayed with the force of the emotion. A bright grin passed over her face and she said carefully, "Oh good. I didn't think that you had but, you know, you can never be too careful. I didn't want to be harboring a killer in my house, I'm sure that the police wouldn't find that very amusing." She leaned against the door jam a little more forcefully before adding, "Well, goodnight." And she gently closed the door on her very odd, but appealing, houseguest.

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Well enjoy! Reviews would be LOVELY, but until then, I'll see ya'll next week.

_Note: _yes that does mean I will update every week on Monday, hopefully that schedule will be followed.


	2. Being a thing immortal as itself

**Being a thing immortal as itself**

Well, this chapter really isn't all that interesting. We're delving into Lucian's mind, what he thinks of our darling Ophelia, and generally trying to enjoy being in Lucian's thoughts. Other then that, you'll have to read to see the new character I've introduced. ;}

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_And for my soul, what can it do to that,  
Being a thing immortal as itself?_

The first thing that he could remember was the scent of silver. It burned through his body as a sword would tear through tissues. His breath came in short gasps as he struggled to remember who he was, where he was, and why he felt as though he had been shot to pieces. As he slowly rolled over onto his stomach, Lucian tried to breath in the air that seemed to not want to go into his lungs. No sound escaped his mouth, he was too prideful to allow that, but he seriously thought about it. The muck around him oozed between his fingers as he clenched his fists. With a grimace he tried to push himself into a crawl, anything to prove to himself that he could fight should he need to.

It was then that he realized he was sitting in a pool of blood. Sniffing the air, he froze as the scent of the blood registered as belonging to someone other than him. Staring at his fingers, he watched as blood slowly oozed into the handprints he had made in the mud. As he raised his head, he couldn't help but gap at the scene in front of him. Five dead bodies littered the ground, torn to pieces as though by an animal. He could tell by their scent that they were young, some not yet even finished with puberty. Licking his lips, Lucian tried to find some kind of moisture to ease his suddenly dry mouth.

He shouldn't have been surprised, he tried to tell himself. It was rare, but he had heard of a lycan returning from the dead by drinking blood. The vampires were their cousins. Could it not be true that lycans could gain life by the drinking of blood as well? He had only heard of this kind of instance once, and even then he had been inclined to not believe the story. But here he was, alive, and he had been certain that after he had been shot there was no way he was returning. He shuddered as feeling finally returned to the entirety of his body. Cold silver coated his body in a fine film. He could smell his own skin slowly burning, but it was better than having the silver inside his body.

The urge to Turn was so great that he could feel his entire body shuddering with the need. A growl erupted from his mouth as an unwanted noise, but the need was enough for him to push himself up into a standing position. He had to press his hands against the wall to stand the way he was, but it was standing. He had to get away from the bodies, that primal urge was insistent in his mind. His body pushed him down the tunnel, even though his mind screamed for him to stop and at least hide the bodies.

But no thought would touch the need to remove himself from the crime scene, and soon he was careening down the tunnel at a pace he had never expected to be able to reach in his condition. His movement was stopped by a warm body though, and he almost fought the grip he soon found himself in. Lucian struggled to remember where he was, it was as though his body refused to listen to what his mind was telling it. He came to quickly though, and was surprised to find himself clutched to a female body in a parody of a lovers' embrace. It would have been a moment Lucian had enjoyed if she wasn't roughly hitting his sides imploring him to take some of his own weight.

To be able to take his own weight was an action he was questioning, but as he slowly raised his arm he found that he was able to do so. He stared down at her face and very quickly realized what a lucky man he was to be clutched to her chest. She was a beauty unlike any he'd seen in a long time. Her face was a round moon reflecting what little light was in the tunnel as if she was made of the light herself. Her eyes were large and the color of palm leaves on remote islands. She was such a tiny thing he couldn't help but wonder how she was managing to hold him up, he felt as though he could crush her without a second thought. And her hair, oh lord her hair, he wanted nothing more than to bury his fists into the thick golden locks. He would have too, if he could have gotten enough energy to raise the other arm.

Before he could understand her words, she was pressing on his shoulders for him to sit on something and his thoughts were bombarding him again. How could he be looking at a woman at a time like this? It wasn't that he felt guilty because of his love for Sonja. It wasn't as though he hadn't had lovers in the 600 years after her death. He'd had plenty of those. But he hadn't ever had a reaction like this, the raging need pushing though his stomach and chest like a monster clawing to get out. Her gentle eyes stared up at him and he quickly looked away, his attention was not needed for her to stare up at him. But he was startled out of his thoughts when her hands started cleaning his wounds. Tentative hands that gently scooped water from around him and slicked down his calves. He could have groaned if his vocal cords would work, but he didn't think that the girl had any idea what she was doing to him.

But then they were off again, and his head was spinning as though he was on some kind of rollercoaster. The only thing he could attest to was that the silver on his skin was slowly poisoning him, and he was soon realizing that there was no way he had gotten all of the silver out of his body, and that he was too weak to do anything about that. Images flashed by him, tunnels, broken wood and iron, leaning against a door, and then a cool wind sliding along his sweat dampened body. She spoke then, and he almost didn't catch the meaning of the words simply because he was focusing on her beautiful voice. He did catch the word hospital, and in response shook his head violently. The only thing that managed to do was to make his head spin harder than it already was.

He didn't remember the trip to the apartment, his last memory was sitting on that bench and then he woke to find himself seated in a small bathroom with the woman fumbling with his shirt. Her scent pushed through his nostrils, though in truth he was actually breathing in her scent. She smelled like lemons and verbena, something that wasn't perfume but entirely her. His senses were quickly returning to him, and she was so close to him he couldn't help but lean closer to the pulse on her neck. Lucian knew in some corner of his mind that it was just the beast inside him that was reacting to this woman but he didn't want to gain control of himself.

He was pulled out of his revere as she tore his shirt from the wounds on his back. Despite his gritted teeth, a low groan escaped his lips. Lucian was more than a little embarrassed by that. He was a man, not some kind of child that couldn't stand pain. But by God that hurt! As he tried to control his breathing he looked up at the woman. She looked sheepish, as though she had known what a dirty trick that had been.

He had half a mind to call her out on it, growl and scare her away from him. But before he could do anything of the sort she was leaning into him, pressed against his shoulder and cleaning the wounds along his back. Soon enough, his breath was coming in harsh gasps as the pain mingled with her scent and heat. Lemon slowly invaded his body and calmed him to the point where he was limp in her arms. Lucian was tempted to run his nose along the line of her neck that was exposed as her head tilted to the side. The line made a graceful arch just in his reach should he so please. But just before he could touch her, she stepped out of his arms and moved away from him. "I'm sure you can do your own bottom half. I'm just going to find something for you to wear so you don't have to stay in those clothes."

Her stepping away from him was one of the worst things that had happened to him today. Not that Lucian was feeling connected to her, hell no. There was nothing that would make him want this dirty human, but she was an anomaly to him. This mysterious woman that helped him without even asking if he needed her help. He took a deep breath and looked at the wads of wrappings that were piled against the counter and tried to shake the cobwebs out of his mind. So he was in this apartment with a girl he had no recollection of, and her lingering scent told him that she was by no means a vampire or a lycan. The very thought that a human would have helped one of his kind on her own was surprising to him. Didn't humans have some kind of meter inside of them that told them when they were standing next to some dangerous beast?

He was tempted to shrug in his remembering her attitude when she had first grabbed onto him. She hadn't been afraid at all. No fear had tinged her lemon scent. He snorted. Women in this century just weren't as vigilant as they should be. If he had been some other man he could have taken advantage of her, who knows what some men would do if a woman simply took them into her apartment. Luckily, for her at least, he wasn't the kind of man to hurt an unsuspecting woman. A female that had betrayed him, now that was a different story all together.

Grabbing the wrapping he shook and slowly shucked off his ruined leather pants. There was no remorse in the action, he was sure that he could get another pair of pants for God's sake. But the pain was horrific. The leather pants were tight against his skin, and when he pulled them down they slid the silver with them, taking off the top few layers of his skin. There was an amusing thought that flickered through his mind for a moment, and a smirk crossed his face. Raze would enjoy the fact that he wouldn't have hair on his legs for a month at least. Then the smirk disappeared as he remembered his faithful friend's death.

A growl tore through his body at the memory of Raze falling. The man had never been beaten in a fight in his entire life. And yet he was proved to be as mortal as the rest of them, in that horrible escape from the living world. Death. Lucian never liked the thought of death, but it made it all the more vivid in his mind that Raze was now gone. Lucian himself was not as immortal as people thought, and now that he remembered what had happened to so many of his faithful friends, he shuddered. Dropping back onto the toilet, he continued to wrap his legs and strove to remember how he could have possibly lived through the ordeal while none of the other lycans had lived.

But the memory continued to evade him, even through his endless efforts to try and remember how he was alive and slicked with silver. He growled again before stalking into the living room of the home. He took in his surroundings like a man before a battle. He didn't know this woman whose home he was staying in. She could possibly be someone that was hired by vampires, and was not to be trusted. Lucian didn't trust people that he'd known for years, let alone some flimsy female that thought she could help in him some way.

But even as he stared at the apartment he was now inside, he couldn't help but feel the weakness in his body. Lucian had been through a horrible experience, just the thought of the liquid silver invading his system was enough to make him want to shudder. But he wasn't used to being so weak after this long a time. He could see the sun setting, and his body had expelled the silver as far as he could tell. But when he delved deeper into his thoughts, he finally realized that there were still traces of silver that he couldn't seem to remove himself. So he stood, dumbfounded, unable to believe that his one special capability wouldn't help him now. He was poisoned from inside his body, and all he could do was wait until his blood was cleaned by the organs inside of him.

In one last effort to dispel these horrible thoughts, he tried to turn as he had been able to since he was a child. But the beast inside of him refused to come at his call, and Lucian's shudder couldn't be stopped this time. He didn't know how long it would take until he could turn again, but if his reaction was the same as other lycans who had been shot with silver that stayed inside their body, his next turn would be explosive and very dangerous. The thought that he was stuck in an apartment with a helpless woman didn't help the situation.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his revere, but her gasp made him turn. He could see the blush on the back of her neck since her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Her arm was awkwardly held out behind her so that she didn't need to turn around to look at him again. He stared down at his body before realizing that he was stark naked and standing in the middle of her living room. The girl must think he was a total quack, he thought before grabbing the grey sweats from her hands. The sweats smelled horrible, like human male that used far too much cologne. But it was the only thing that he could wear at the moment, and Lucian didn't want to walk around her apartment in nothing but his skin.

As he yanked on the offending sweats, he hoped that his cringe wasn't too noticeable. He heard her turn, but couldn't do anything other than blankly stare at her. How in the world could he not be able to Turn? His entire life he'd been able to turn into his other half, and without that he was nothing! There had to be a person that could tell him what was wrong, though he could guess himself. All he could do at this point was to hope that it would work itself out of his body and that he'd be back to his normal self soon. But the more that he thought about it the more he realized that the thought was more like a dream. He didn't know whether or not it was possible to cleanse your own blood, but he damn well hoped that there was some kind of doctor around here that he could tell him. As soon as he could manage to walk at least a block without getting so winded he had to sit down, Lucian planned to find a way talk to another lycan. Preferably he would talk to a lycan that actually knew something about his newfound dilemma.

But, yet again, the girl pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced down at the sprite that now tugged on his wrist, pulling him towards a chair that looked rather comfortable. She really was a tiny thing now that he was standing next to her. And Lucian wasn't the tallest man in the world, he knew that most men stood a few inches above him, but they must tower over this woman. She must have felt his eyes for she glanced at him as she settled him into the chair. Lucian feigned disinterest.

He ignored her as she made up the couch for him to sleep on, he didn't want her to think that he was watching her as much as she was watching him. He felt her eyes on him constantly, and to be truthful it was starting to annoy him. She had no right to be watching him as if he was going to look back at her. There were enough females around him that were constantly trying to gain his attention, it didn't matter that he was fighting them all off with desperate attempts. He had no time for women at this point in his life. The war was the only thing that mattered, not the softness of female flesh or the drama that they brought with them.

The words on the TV caught his attention though. So they had already found the bodies of those teens that he had woken up next to. It was a sad thing, and they showed the families of the teenagers crying and holding each other. They begged the cameras for someone to tell him who had done this to their babies. Lucian settled himself into the chair more comfortably. It was too bad really, but they had given their lives for a good reason. And besides, they weren't actually dead. The bodies would be recognized by his pack, and they would sneak them out of the hospital. No one wanted to see the dead rise except those that were dead themselves.

Her soft voice washed over him, along with that damnable scent of lemon and verbena. "You didn't kill those kids did you?"

He wanted nothing more than to ignore her, but he saw fear flickering behind her eyes and he found he couldn't help but shake his head. Her grin was enough to make his heart pound in a way it hadn't for hundreds of years. This new development wasn't something that he wanted to pursue. He was loyal to the memory of his love, even if he still couldn't say her name without getting upset and angry. She closed the door to her room and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was gone, and now he could get some peace.

As he stared at the glowing lights of the TV, he couldn't help but wonder whether he actually was the one that had hurt those kids. They were definitely killed by a lycan, and definitely been Turned, of that he was sure. Lucian knew that he had killed a lot of people in his time. Men, even the occasional woman, but he couldn't remember killing any children that had still been alive. It was hard to think that he, a man who prided himself with the control that he kept on himself, could have killed a group of teenagers and not remember it. He scored his brain trying to think if he had actually been the one that have made those horrible marks on the skins of those innocents, but all he could think was that he didn't remember hurting them.

He slouched against the couch and huffed out a breath. The one thing that he would give anything for at the moment was for Raze to walk through the door and give him council like that man had done so many times in Lucian's life. Raze was one of those men that were constantly saying things that were absolutely true, one of those reasons why people hated him so much. But at this moment, Lucian would give anything to remember when he had last thought about a situation completely by himself.

The pounding in his head and he paused his thinking to remember that he still wasn't in the best condition. Sliding through the sheets, he laid his head against the pillow and attempted to resume thinking. But her scent invaded his thoughts instead of the true problem at hand, and he growled and tossed the pillow to his feet. Then his head was flat against the couch she had, which was much less comfortable then the chair she had sat him in, and the pillow quickly was replaced under his head. That scent was enough to drive him crazy though, he could feel his body reacting to it. Finally, he simply sat up.

He could feel that it was going to be another long sleepless night. Why was this girl making his entire world tip upside down? She was most definitely not the kind of woman that he was usually attracted to. He snorted when he thought about the past women that he had been involved with. They were all Alpha females, queens in their own right, and strong in everything that they did. While he could sense strength in this new woman, she was far from being an Alpha. She tip toed around him, always watching to make sure she wasn't doing something that was making him unhappy. He wondered if she had been in bad relationships, it would certainly explain why she was so aware of his emotions. But she didn't flinch away from him, instead when he had gotten beastly around her, she had moved closer to him.

She definitely wasn't anything special. She was quite unremarkable to be completely honest. Her quiet movements and bland expressions made her blend in with the rest of the crowd. Lucian was quite positive that if he had ever met her on a subway or anything of the sort, he would have never noticed her to begin with. Some of the other lycans might have, there were plenty of them that showed no Alpha personality traits at all. The last thing he wanted though was to have her around him constantly. He was an Alpha, whoever he consorted with had to be decidedly Alpha as well. And this woman was far from that, she wasn't even confident in herself.

With that thought about, he slumped back down onto the pillow and stared at the TV again. The news was now off, and it had switched to some late night show that he would rather not be watching. But Lucian couldn't move off the couch. His body was finally protesting from the long day, and it was all he could do to move his toes. There was absolutely no way that he was going to be able to move his entire body. There was a bang from one of rooms in the apartment that sent his hackles on edge.

He listened intently, but there was no movement from the room where she had disappeared into. How in the world could she have slept through that? There was obviously something in her house, and it was moving out of the room that it had jumped into. He pushed himself into a sitting position and listened again. The woman was going to get herself killed, he decided. If she didn't wake up when something came into her house how in the world was she going to manage now that she was harboring a lycan? That could be a vampire! And he was not in any condition to save her or himself.

Slinking across the floor, he pressed against one of the walls and waited for whatever it was to pass by him. Whoever was in her house didn't mind being loud about it, he could hear its loud thumps even as it walked closer to the woman's bedroom. Just as he was ready to pounce, he smelled it. Cat. Lucian shook his head in disbelief. A cat? That was what had made that loud noise?

When he rounded the corner he was again stopped in surprise. This was no cat, it was a goliath. He couldn't even begin to guess what a cat of that size weighed, but he didn't think it was going to be a small amount. Its back was bowed with the weight of its gut and its belly swayed as it walked. Lucian hated cats almost more then he hated vampires, but this cat was far past the hating point. It was disgusting to be honest, and the thing simply paused a moment to stare up at him before snubbing him. It managed to do this by walking by him and adding a swagger to its walk that Lucian just knew was supposed to mean that it didn't give a damn about him.

He watched it walk to the door of her bedroom and tapped against it with one of its tiny paws. And it did have small paws. He couldn't even imagine how the cat managed to walk with all that weight on such a small amount of surface. It almost looked like it was grinning at him when the door moved soundlessly opened, and it swaggered into the woman's room without another look at him.

Lucian was dumbfounded. The woman not only dragged him into her apartment, but she also had a cat that already had a murderous look in its eyes? No, he'd leave in the morning, he decided. The last thing he wanted at this moment was to be stuck in a small apartment with a defenseless woman and a cat the size of Texas.

He wearily sat back down on the couch. Already he was being a bodyguard for her, reverting back to the watchdog position that he had grown up with. He didn't want to go back to the way he used to be. Watching over those that didn't care about him was no life, and no way to live. His head dropped into his hands, and he groaned quietly. This woman was truly defenseless. And somehow, she had managed to house the worst person she ever could have housed. A lycan king, a man who was supposed to be dead, and if anyone found out that he was alive she would be the first person that they targeted.

That wasn't his problem though. Lucian settled himself against the couch again and closed his eyes. The woman was none of his concern, even if she slept like a rock and didn't seem to be moving even though he and the cat had made enough noise to wake the dead. He couldn't help but continue thinking that she needed someone to watch over her, especially now that he had seen how she slept. Maybe once he left he would send someone to watch over, just because she did help to save his life.

Lucian wasn't the kind of person to send someone, at least not usually. But this strange young woman, who he found to be extremely odd, was wiggling her way into his life and he wasn't positive what to do with her. Maybe if he simply sent someone to watch over her he'd be able to get her out of his mind. He wrinkled his nose when he smelled the lemon verbena scent that he was quickly associating with her.

Well, he'd forget her as long as he never smelled that scent again.

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Voila! New chapter, new part, blah-de-bloody-blah-blah.

Thank you to the 96 readers, you all are LOVED. And special thanks to the three of you who reviewed *hugs*

**Soaring Hawk-** Of course it's going to be a long story! I'm horrible at ending stories, and I have a feeling that this one is going to be drawn out... Or at least a long story. Hopefully 15-20 chapters, that's my goal.

**keili77-** Thank you!

**Palace-of-Nightmares-** And thank you to you too!


	3. False to any Man

I am SO sorry it took me this long my lovely lovely readers. I got a whopper of a virus on my computer, and I ended up without it for three weeks. I know it's no excuse, but I got it back yesterday and this is out for you today.

Thank you to everyone that reviewed and messaged me about my story, it's really appreciated. I 3 you all.

(Beta reader is needed desperately, preferably someone who has seen the underworld movies)

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_**FALSE TO ANY MAN**_

_This above all — to thine own self be true;  
And it must follow, as the night the day,  
Thou canst not then be false to any man._

Stretching her arms, Ophelia smiled at the beam of sun that hit her skin. It was a shard of pure light coming into her room through the curtains. Such was a wonderful way to wake up, she felt. Her smile only grew wider as she saw that Fat Kitty had returned in the middle of the night. Now, Fat Kitty was a very strange cat to say the least. He was an interesting character and that was why Ophelia loved him so much. She and her friend Jules had found him in the middle of the street when he was just a kitten. Even then he had been the fattest cat that she had ever seen, and she had fallen in love immediately.

Fat Kitty looked up at her and seemed to smile at her in that cat like way. He was always happy, probably because somehow he always managed to get her to put even more food in his dish. Ophelia reached down and ran her fingers through his fur. This was how she woke up every morning. A fat cat lying across her legs, the sun fresh on her face, and the smell of coffee… The smell of coffee?

Sitting up quickly, Ophelia sniffed the air again. Yes that was the smell of coffee, but how in the world was that scent in her apartment? She wasn't up yet, and she definitely had never managed to make coffee when she was sleepwalking. But then she remembered the man, that dastardly and decidedly dangerous man that she now had in her apartment.

Groaning, she smacked her forehead and fell onto her back again. How could she walk out of this room and face him? There was no way that she felt comfortable talking with him. After all, he must think that she was so incredibly easy. What kind of woman just picked up a man in an underground tunnel? She shook her head. No good kind of woman, that was who picked up wounded men. He probably thought that she was used to the rough life, as if she'd ever seen a bleeding man in her life. She'd never even seen herself bleed profusely, let alone some man that she didn't even know.

But as life would have it, she had to wake up, get up, get dressed, and go and face the man who must have been the culprit that was using up her valuable coffee. Sliding out of bed, she paused when she saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was horribly greasy, and she looked as though she hadn't slept in fifteen days. That would be a good way to stall at least. If she could somehow manage to sneak by him, she could definitely rush into the bathroom and take a nice long shower.

She rummaged through her closet to find a robe, and snuck out of the bedroom. The door squeaked as she opened it, and she winced. But the sounds coming from the kitchen didn't pause, and she wondered whether or not he was somehow deaf. Tiptoeing down the hallway, she poked her head around the hallway. The sight that greeted her eyes almost made her burst out laughing more then she already was.

The man was crouched in front of the stove and was fiddling with the knobs. It seemed as though he didn't realize that she had a very old stove, and that he was trying to figure out why the flame wasn't starting. It was so surprising to see the bloodied and dangerous looking man kneeling next to her stove clicking it on and off.

With a small snort, she abandoned her original plan and switched to plan B. She walked over to where he was kneeling, grabbed the lighter above the stove, clicked it on, and lit the stove. A small smile tinged her lips as she put the lighter back on its hanger. "Usually you'd have to light the stove for the fire to turn on."

She tried not to sound sarcastic, she really did. But maybe that was something that was impossible for her, because her voice definitely didn't sound like she wasn't sarcastic.

"Hmm." His voice rumbled out of his chest. He seemed to stare at the stove again, pondering. Then his eyes turned to her, and she barely contained her gasp. His eyes, those chocolate eyes, seemed to stare straight into her soul. Ophelia suddenly was looking through a tunnel straight at his eyes, her heart pounded, and her breath came in short gasps that made her feel as though she was going to fall. "I'm afraid I've forgotten how to light… household appliances. I thought that they had invented stoves that simply turned on by now."

Ophelia smiled and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Looking down at her feet, she tried to think of something, anything, to say to him. She didn't feel like continuing a conversation about her stove. But suddenly her tongue was tied and her mind was bound in a straight jacket. She couldn't stop being the idiot standing in front of him shuffling her feet, trying to seem as though she wasn't doing exactly that.

"I don't think I introduced myself last night." Her eyes snapped back up to his face, and saw that he was trying to smile. It looked as though the man didn't smile much. It was unnatural, as though it wasn't ready to come out onto his face or that the muscles hadn't been used in a very long time.

"No, no I don't think you did." Feeling as though she really should be playing the host, Ophelia stuck her hand out. "But I didn't either. My name is Ophelia, welcome to the apartment."

Yeah, she felt like an idiot. He stared at her hand as though she was handing him a dangling head. But soon enough he slid his fingers across hers, and she tried to contain her shiver. "My name is Lucian."

"No last name, Lucian?" She grinned at him. Man, the guy was short. Her smile only got bigger as she thought that. It was a rare opportunity for her to call a man short. He was still taller than her, but he was definitely shorter than all the other men that she knew. Ophelia couldn't imagine that he was six feet tall. If he was, she was certain that it was stretching.

"You didn't give me yours." It seemed as though at that words he suddenly stopped being interested in her. He turned around again and started grabbing pots and pans. She stood like some kind of fool in the center of the kitchen as he walked around her. It was like she wasn't even there anymore, as if she had suddenly disappeared and he didn't care anymore. But it wasn't as though she could tell him to turn around and pay attention to her. Ophelia didn't know him, he didn't know her, but it was rude of him to be so callous.

She wasn't one to call attention to anything that he was doing though, especially when she felt as though he was the one that was doing something wrong. "I- I'm going to just go… take a shower."

Backing out of the kitchen, she turned and quietly made her way to the shower. How in the world he simply flipped emotions like that she'd never know. It was like she had accidently hit a switch and he suddenly didn't care who she was or what she was doing. When she reached the bathroom, she locked the door. It wasn't that she as uncomfortable with him, she tried to tell herself, it was just that he was a man and she didn't want him to accidently walk in on her.

In truth, it was that she was nervous around him. Ophelia couldn't deny that she felt the power radiating off of him whenever she was around him. He was dangerous, that she was sure of. Why he was in her apartment and she hadn't kicked him out yet? Hell if she could even answer that question. She didn't know why she was letting him stay in her apartment and make himself breakfast. She didn't like men, she had never liked men. They were crude, callous, idiotic, Neanderthals that didn't care about what women wanted or thought. She had yet to meet a man that would be fine letting his girlfriend simply hold on to him when she was crying or feeling like she was just having a shitty day.

Of course, most men would simply say, "Oh it's just pms". That was something that it never was. She couldn't understand how all of her ex boyfriends didn't get it when she said that she just needed a good cry. They thought that something had to be wrong and she just wasn't telling them. One boyfriend even went so far as to ask if she was pregnant and that was why she was being such a bitch to him. Obviously that hadn't gone as well as he had planned.

Ophelia leaned against the door, trying to organize her thoughts. It wasn't like she was frightened of him, quite the opposite to be honest. She was drawn to him in a way that she hadn't been drawn to a man since her first school girl crush. He was like the best chocolate in the world, and she wasn't a taste more than anything in the world. Ophelia shook herself. She shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that! The man was half dead last night, let alone in any condition to be thinking about a woman in his life. And did she really want to get involved with a man that was beaten to a pulp? No.

Slipping out of her robe, she shucked off her button down shirt that she slept in. Who knows? Maybe he really was just a creep that killed little kids for kicks. But maybe he was just some nice guy that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now God was giving him a reason to relax and sending him her way for added bonuses. Yeah, that sounded like something He would do. Ophelia ran her hand through her hair and tried to untangle the knots before she put anything in her hair to tangle the strands even more. She sighed, who knew. She'd just have to get to know this man more. And with that as her last thought, she stepped into the shower.

Lucian stared at the blasting stove as he listened to her walk out of the kitchen. He hated being reminded of the past women that he had loved. Especially when the adorable woman in front of him had gotten that heavy lidded look in her eyes that he had seen so many times. He hadn't wanted to make her think that he was trying to seduce her. He didn't even know who she was.

But he had felt as though he was trying to seduce her. He had leaned in just as she had, and he couldn't stop his body from wanting to move towards her. The woman was unlike anything he'd ever seen. She had walked out of her room tiptoeing around him. No woman had ever done that around him before. Most of the women that he got involved with would have walked out of that room with something skimpy on, trying to get his attention in the only way they could.

This strange human, though, had wandered out of her room covered from head to toe in a robe that made her look like some kind of teddy bear. Lucian had never thought that he would find clothing like that sexy, but he had wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and feel just how soft that material was. She made a delectable sight in that robe. One that he was sure would be seared in his mind for the rest of his life.

Cracking an egg over the edge of the black skillet, he marveled at the fact that she even had pots and pans that he liked. All the things in her house did not have the feminine touch that he was used to. Nothing was the frills and pastels that he usually found in the house of a female who lived along. This apartment seemed as though it was rarely lived in. There were still boxes in the living room, and in the kitchen there were boxes where he found spices and everything else he needed to make the omelet that he had planned for her.

When he awoke this morning, all he could think was that he felt much better. He still couldn't turn, and that was making him extremely angry. He even tried to force the change by dragging a knife across his arm. Nothing could raise the beast inside of him though, and unfortunately all that managed to do was bloody the blankets that he was on. He hoped that if she, Ophelia he reminded himself, saw the blankets she would simply think that he hadn't managed to completely clean himself last night.

His body was healed, and for that he was grateful. But there was nothing he could do able the ability to change.

A soft sound reached his ears from the front of the apartment, and he froze. Taking the skillet off of the stove, he quietly turned it off and strained his ears. There was definitely someone in the apartment, and they were not trying to be quiet about it. He heard a clink, and was certain that the cabinet in the front room had been opened, and that something had been taken out of it.

With a low growl, he pressed himself against the wall and waited for the person to walk around the corner. It might not be his home, but if he wasn't here the woman, Ophelia, she would have been in dire danger. For some reason, all he could think that there was danger in the house, and he wouldn't stop to protect this man.

By the heavy footsteps he could tell that it was a man. And as he took a deep breath he was certain that this man had no link to the woman in the apartment. Her scent would have been all over him should he had been her consort, and he scent was extremely faint on his body. Lucian could smell the sandwich the man had had for lunch, the scent of the man's cologne, and the horrible scent of pure male testosterone that made him long to turn. Fangs grew in his mouth, and Lucian's muscles tensed as he prepared to attack.

Then the man turned the corner and all hell broke loose.

Ophelia was just starting to enjoy her shower when she heard the masculine yell. It startled her so bad that she dropped the shampoo that he was holding, and jumped out of the shower. She managed to remember to wrap a towel around herself before she was bolting out of the shower and staring at the mess in front of her. It seemed as though two very large elephants had trampled through her apartment and left disaster in their wake.

The causes of this horrible mess were wrestling on carpet on top of what seemed to be her coffee table. Rolling her eyes, she carefully avoided the glass pieces before planting her feet and screaming. She knew that she had a horrible scream, it was ear piercing, annoying as hell, but it always managed to stop a fight. And the last thing that she wanted right now was a fight, especially since she recognized one of the feet that was sticking out from under the man whom she had adopted into her apartment.

Both men froze, and Lucian spun and landed onto his heels in a crouched position. When he realized just who was screaming, he stared at her in shock. He then launched to his feet and was immediately in front of her, asking quickly, "What? Why are you screaming?" His tone of voice almost made her smile, but she couldn't condone fighting in her apartment.

So instead of melting under the worried look in his eyes, she walked around him and reached out a hand to the man on the ground. With a warm smile on her face, she quietly said, "Well, welcome home. I guess I probably should have called to let you know we were currently housing a gladiator."

But, as she thought would happen, the man on the ground simply smiled and took her hand. "I'm sure I would have announced myself at least if I knew such a man was staying with us, dearest." His voice was slightly scratchy, and he grinned up at her. Ophelia planted her feet on top of his and levered him up, something that they had been doing since they were children.

The man in front of her was Jim, and he'd been like a brother to her since the moment he moved to her town in the second grade. She'd been through a lot with him, most of the incidents because of the fact that he was African American, and some of the incidents because he was also gay. But Jim had managed to wiggle his way into her heart, and had followed her to college and then later to her apartment.

They had lived with each other for over two years now.

She turned to Lucian, and couldn't help but grin at the look on his face. He was thoroughly confused, and seemed more than a little put out. Ophelia couldn't help but wonder whether or not he had thought that he was doing the good deed, being the hero, or whatever else you wanted to call it. It was very heroic of him to be scared about her safety, but surely he would have thought that if a man could get into her apartment he obviously would have a key. "Lucian, if I may introduce you to Jim. He's been my roommate for a while now, I'm sorry I didn't mention that he might be coming home today."

A little put off, Lucian waved at her as though it didn't matter to him that another man was obviously in her life. "It is of no concern of yours."

But suddenly the man, Jim, started to laugh. "Ah, man. Ophelia darling, what have you dragged in with you? The man jumped me like I've always dreamed some guy would, and the next thing I know he's pounding the snot out of me. I couldn't even get a shot in!" Jim wiped a bit of blood away from his nose, and grinned down at her. "I think you've got a wild one on your hands, but you always managed to get the odd one's to like you."

Ophelia ducked her head, and flinched when a large drop of soap landed on her hand. With a gasp, her hands flew to her head. She couldn't believe it, but her hair was still covered with suds from the shampoo. In her flight to her friend's safety, she hadn't even realized that she was still covered with shampoo. With another gasp, she clutched the towel to her chest. It wasn't like Ophelia to simply walk out in a towel around men. True she was more comfortable being in a towel around Jim, but she still never walked around naked when he was home.

She flew back into the bathroom, her feet moving at an almost surprising rate, leaving Jim sniggering and Lucian staring at her back.

Jim turned towards Lucian, staring at him as he seemed lost in his own little world. He didn't quite understand how Lucian could completely dismiss a man that was standing next to him so completely. Especially since they had just fought, all Jim could think that he had to have a death wish or something similar to that. And something else to think about, why in the world was there a man in Ophelia's apartment?

Ophelia had never brought a man home, as far as Jim knew. They'd been friends since they were kids, and it had always seemed to him that she just wasn't all that interested in men. Oh she wasn't gay like he was. No he was certain of that. His own gaydar was definitely up to par. But the thought that she'd never even had sex, now that was something that Jim had a hard time believing. But then he'd look at her in a situation like this, and how she was so uncomfortable around them when she was completely covered up, and then he'd understand why she always said she'd never been in an intimate relationship.

It was because she really had never been in a relationship of such kind. That was why she continued to tell him so.

Wrapping a friendly arm across Lucian's shoulder, he couldn't help but grin when the smaller man jumped. "It was mighty surprising to have a man of your size jump me like that, buddy. Did you learn all those moves from street fighting or did you have a teacher that I should look up?"

Lucian took one more glance across his shoulder before completely ignoring Jim's question. "So what's her story?"

Slouching across the couch, Jim laid down on the couch belly down. If anyone had walked into the apartment at that time their eyes would have been drawn to the man. He was quite an impressive sight. Jim couldn't ever be called a small man. He was well over six feet, made of pure bricklike muscle, and had an air around him that simply screamed danger. It was how he got most of his boyfriends. Ophelia always joked that he looked like some kind of hit man but really most of the time he was simply a bitch.

"Ophelia?" Jim opened one lazy eye.

He noticed that Lucian was completely tense, all the muscles in his body rippling as he moved. The man gave him a glare that almost singed the skin right off of his back before Jim groaned and sat up again. He had had a long day at the office, and it was quite an office job indeed. He'd just finished his nine hour shift, one that always killed him. Jim didn't like having to work that much, he came from a very wealthy family but had to work to get some of their money. One of his parents ways to make themselves feel less guilty for having completely spoiled kids.

"Ophelia's just one of those free souls people always talk about. You know?" When he saw Lucian's blank look, he moved to explain. "She's always moving around, changing jobs, shifting gears. She'll pick up a puppy on the road and then give it to the next person that comments they want one. She doesn't want to be tied down with anything. It's strange really. I don't know why she moves around so much. I met her in Europe and found out that we both were moving back to the states. Her parents were missionaries, and I'm pretty sure that's why she hates staying in one place or practicing only one religion."

Lucian nodded before staring at his hands again. "Has she ever been in an abusive relationship?"

A shocked gasp was his answer, followed by a flamboyant hand pressed against a heart. "Do you really think I'd let some bastard hit her? I come by here all the time, when I'm not living here that is, I'd see if something was happening that I didn't like." Jim shook his head again, before quietly asking, "Why? Do you think that something happened while I was gone?"

"I'm not sure."

Jim shook his head, "I always worry about her. She's too nice to peop—"

Ophelia walked into the room with a curious look on her face. "What were you two talking about?" She proved, yet again, that she could look even cuter then she had when Lucian had first met her. An oversized sweater covered her top half, making her look like she was swimming in some man's shirt. Yoga pants stretched tight across her skinny legs, and her hair was still wet from the shower. Lucian's nostrils flared as he caught scent of her.

Looking at Lucian strangely, she asked him, "Are you cooking something?" She pointed at the kitchen, and grinned as he quickly stood up and walked towards the kitchen briskly.

"Jim, what were you saying to him? Hopefully not corrupting his mind about me." She sat down next to her friend.

"Of course not! No, I was simply talking to him about how wonderfully amusing you are." He rested a heavy arm against her shoulders. "How in the world did you find this man in the first place Ophie? He seems like such a strange man for you to come home with."

"Oh well, I kind of… um… Found him next to that club The Underground and he was hurt real bad so I took him home to help him out just a bit please don't be mad at me." Her words came out in a jumble of a run on sentence that Jim had a hard time hearing.

"He looked fine to me Ophie." A confused look planted itself on his face. Jim didn't remember Ophelia ever lying to him, and he didn't think that she really had any reason to. Either she didn't want to tell him, or she was telling the truth about what she thought had happened. But before he could ask her himself she was out from under his arm and rushing into the kitchen.

Ophelia's heart was beating a mile a minute as she remembered that he hadn't looked as though he was hurt at all. She hadn't seen any of the bandages, and she was certain that there hadn't been any scratches on his arms or legs. Granted it had been bad lighting last night in her small bathroom, but it hadn't been that dark that she couldn't tell whether or not his arms were covered in cuts.

The moment she walked into the kitchen, she stopped and stared at his back. All of the wounds, all of the gashes and bullet holes that she herself had so painstakingly wrapped and cleaned, they were all healed. It looked as though he'd never been in a fight or been hurt at all. His bare back was smooth and healed.

In a moment of desperate confusion, she rushed up behind him and ran her hands over his back. Sliding along the muscles and tracing the line of his spine, she was close enough to breathe on the warm skin in front of her. She ignored the shiver that rippled across his back, and the shuddering breath that he took before slowly turning and taking her hands in his. When Ophelia looked up into her eyes she had to marvel at the self control that he was showing, the passion in his eyes was evident even to her.

"What are you doing?"

Even in her surprised stupor, Ophelia had enough indignation to reply to his question with a voice laced with anger. "You were hurt! I saw all the cuts on you. I cleaned the damn bullet hole in your back! How are you not hurt? How are you not still wrapped up like you were last night?"

Lucian knew that he couldn't let her continue to think that he was hurt. He had forgotten that he would heal so quickly, and perhaps he had even forgotten that she was a human and wouldn't understand when he healed faster than normal. But here she was standing in front of him with fire in her eyes. This was a side of her that he had yet to see, and Lucian would admit to anyone that asked him that she was gorgeous. This tiny sprite of a being in front of him looked ready to kick his ass, though he doubted that she would be able to even if she tried. "I wasn't hurt last night. I don't know what you're talking about Ophelia."

She pounded her tiny fists against his chest before yelling, "No! I know that you were hurt last night! I saw all of that blood, I don't just see blood!" She stared up and met his eyes before quickly adding, "I have the clothing from last night. I'll show you, I didn't go out and get myself covered in blood, it was your blood!"

But he caught her elbow as she rushed past him and said, "I thought they were dirty so I washed all your clothing this morning. I was trying to make it up to you that you allowed me to stay in your home all night long."

She stared mutely at him before nodding quickly. She walked into the living room, her steps short and measured. Then, Ophelia very quietly sat down next to Jim. "I think that you should go. There's nothing here for you to do, and I'm sure you want to get home to Lenny."

Jim's worried look resonated the tone of the room, but he quietly stood up and looked over towards Lucian who was leaning against the kitchen door. "I don't like it, but I'm guessing that you two have unfinished business. I'll leave."

As soon as the door closed, Ophelia raised livid eyes. "I can't believe that you would pass last night off as if I just simply took you home. Jim is my friend, granted, and he's been my friend for a long time. But the last thing I want is for him to think that I take strange men home with me on a regular basis! I know that I'm not lying, and I know that you were hurt last night. Hurt so bad that I carried you most of the way, and that's hurt a lot more than one person can heal in one night. Now I don't know how you healed this fast, but I'm positive that you had some kind of bullet hole in your back, and your entire body was covered with cuts, blood, and some kind of silver liquid. I don't give a damn what you think, but that was a dirty trick. Now that you've made my best friend think that I'm easy and crazy, get out of my apartment."

Lucian didn't understand why she was so angry, but he also didn't like the idea of leaving this apartment on such bad terms. He told himself that it was because he wanted to stay for her protection. At least until he could resume his position and assign someone to watch over her, he wasn't going to leave her alone to be food for the vampires. But in reality, even he realized that he simply didn't want to leave because he was still weak, and she was far too weak to leave alone.

Somehow he ended up crouched in front of her, one hand on her thigh. "I couldn't let him think that I ended up here like that, five kids were killed in the subways last night, Ophelia. I know he's your friend, but he wouldn't believe even you if you told him that I wasn't in the subways." He tried to convince himself that he wasn't resting his hand on her thigh simply to feel the warmth of her flesh. He kept telling himself that it was for her reassurance. But he couldn't deny that his fingers started to tingle as soon as he touched her.

Ophelia dropped her head into her hands and groaned. She was too nice for her own good, she realized that. But she didn't want to just put him back on the street again. His argument made sense, she should have thought of that herself before jumping to conclusions. And if he didn't want to tell her how he healed so fast, well, that was his business. Looking up through her fingers, she said tiredly, "Honestly. What am I going to do with you?" She dropped her hands into her lap and finally smiled. "Okay, fine. I'll let you stay until you can find an apartment, or at least until you want to leave. Now I think you were making breakfast for me, is that right?"

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Review and Rate would be awesome! I just wanted to get this out really fast, so thank you to everyone that reviewed you are all FRICKIN' AWESOME.


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